


Christmas Miracle

by havesexwithyourbrother



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Creampie, F/M, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havesexwithyourbrother/pseuds/havesexwithyourbrother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Gemma go Christmas shopping. They have a car with tinted windows and half an hour before their parking expires.</p>
<p>Inspired by <a href="http://instagram.com/p/iQ8hpbzh7Z/">this</a>. But this story is fictional, not real, just for fun, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Miracle

“30 minutes,” she says, leaning in close so her lips graze the shell of his ear.

He nearly drops a box of last-minute Christmas lights and glances not so subtly down, like his dick might be suddenly visible through his coat. “Okay,” he says, sounding a bit lost.

Gemma ruffles his hair in a sisterly way and goes to look at something on the other side of the shop. She watches him stumble through the queue, and her hands are starting to shake with anticipation by the time he’s stopped by a pair of excited girls in the street. They have a list today, and it’s their last stop. She checks her phone as Harry does his charming, chatty-chatty thing, and calls out, “24 minutes.”

He flushes bright red. “Um, right, our parking’s going to expire, but good to see you! Happy Christmas!” His legs are far longer than hers now, but somehow she’s always still walking ahead of him, leading him down the street although she can’t drag him by the hand like when he was little.

“19 minutes,” she says, climbing into the backseat and plucking open the buttons of her coat. Harry follows after, slamming the door and looking frantic, edgy.

“I’m not sure I can,” he tells her, and Gemma rolls her eyes and reaches for his dick through his tight jeans, feeling out the straining shape of it.

“Are you telling me you’re not ready, Harry? Because that would be a shame. Such a shame.” She strokes at the swollen head of his dick through the worn denim, rubs her thumb over the swell of it.

Harry whimpers, leaning back and spreading his legs as she works his zip down. She’s already soaking through her knickers, but he doesn’t have to know that just yet. She’s been thinking about it all morning, trailing through shop after shop, persuading Harry not to sit in the trolley at the supermarket, checking off things on mum’s list, and telling herself her brother’s cock would be her reward.

Gemma scoops his dick out of his pants, fingers curling over the smooth, hot skin of his shaft, sliding up to tease at the edge of his foreskin. The head of Harry’s prick is already slick, and she sucks a trail of thin fluid off her fingers before licking her palm and going in for a bit of a wank, squeezing at him until he whimpers. When Harry came home after his first tour and said, “Maybe sometimes I like it to hurt,” she’d spent hours trying things out, teasing him with clothes pegs and light slaps. She knows how to work him up now, how to run her thumbnail over the head of his cock so he bucks into her grip. But she doesn’t want him to come like this, not this time.

Gemma rolls her tights down her thighs, gets them into a thick tangle around her knees and realises she’ll have to take them off all the way if she wants to spread her thighs around his. “Should have bloody worn jeans,” she mutters, tugging off her boots and then fighting the bunched-up tights, kicking them partway under the front seat.

Harry laughs, and Gemma lifts an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re so graceful, yeah, Harry?” She peels her damp knickers down, hissing as they pull away from her skin. Nothing gets her as wet as this, the sharp anticipatory heat of teasing him, making them both wait.

His nostrils flare, and she knows his car will smell of them for days after this, that he’ll need to have it cleaned before he leaves again. She slides into his lap, spreading her thighs around his, and Harry’s hand slips down to stroke at the silky heat of her pussy, two fingers opening her up and spreading slick over her clit, rubbing at her until she starts to tremble. It doesn’t take much, and she could come on his long fingers in seconds if she wanted. Instead she grabs for his wrist, stills him.

Harry’s face as he looks up is nothing but wide eyes and wet mouth, and she kisses him before he can say a word, bites his lip and curls her free hand into his shaggy hair. His dick is brushing wetly against the hem of her rucked up skirt, and Gemma moves so she can rub the thick crown against her, slipping it along the slick seam of her pussy. She’s been on the pill since she started uni, and it’s so easy now, so familiar to grab for his dick, releasing Harry’s fumbling hand as she guides it into her. She always used to tell him how big he was, how full she felt with him in her, murmuring it into his ear while he fucked her, making him flush with the praise. They’d learned all sorts of things together, and she doesn’t have to say anything now, doesn’t have to try and cover the first, deep, blunt push of his cock with words. It always aches a little, stretching her pussy wide around it, but she’s so wet she doesn’t even pause on the way down.

“12 minutes,” he whispers, as she settles into his lap, stuffed so full of his dick she doesn’t even want to move. 

“Quick then,” she sighs, and clenches down. Harry’s hand slides under her thighs, lifting her, moving her on the length of his cock. She wriggles her hips until the head of his stiff cock is sliding over her g-spot, and she gasps and grinds down harder against him. She doesn’t want to fuck him fast, not until she has to, and Harry is just holding onto her, letting Gemma set the pace as his hands tremble around the backs of her thighs.

He mouths sloppy kisses down the side of her neck, nuzzling her hair out of the way and making small noises against her skin. “How long?” she asks, steadying herself on her knees and bouncing a bit on his cock with a satisfying squelch. She’s literally dripping wet now, can feel the way her thighs channel it, and she shivers, imagining the spot she’ll leave on Harry’s jeans, the mark of her pussy soaking through his hastily opened flies.

He cranes over her shoulder again. “Six minutes,” he says, and his voice is wrecked, low and hoarse.

She rides him faster, snapping her hips against his and making him moan. She wonders if they’re shaking the car, thrills at the thought, at every way they’re obvious even while they’re hiding. Harry’s fingers dig into her thighs, and she can feel his dick flexing inside her. He waits on her, every time, a true gentleman, and she kisses him as she slides a hand down to rub at her clit. She’s so wet that she struggles for friction, wipes her fingers on her thigh and makes another pass, and it’s not perfect, but it’s better. Anything about this could have been the thing to shove her over the edge, but this time it’s the way Harry groans and bites his lip as her moving fingers brush the base of his cock. His hips jerk, and he’s so close for her, and she’s so close for him, and then she’s falling, falling, her slick pussy pulsing as she sobs out into Harry’s mouth. He grips her tighter, and she can feel the small, crescent marks his short nails are leaving in the soft flesh of her thighs. She’ll make him kiss each and every one later on in penance, but now his thrusts are getting faster, messier, driving into the tight clench of her as she moans and grinds against him. She could come again, but there’s not time. There’s hardly even time for this, but it’s so necessary.

“Gonna,” he whispers, leaving the rest of sentence implied. He’s going to come inside her because neither of them can end this any other way. His hips hitch and his fingers tighten, and then he’s spurting hotly into her, filling her up until his come is trickling back down over his balls and into the open flies of his jeans, marking up his backseat even worse, soaking through their rucked up clothes. She’s already thinking of the way he’ll tug his coat close as they run into the house, trailing shopping bags and calling out for Mum to come and see they’ve got everything on the list. Chatting in the kitchen while his come is still dripping down between her thighs, while she can still feel the hot pulse of him having been in her. Everything about it is dirty.

“Time check,” she says, nipping at the side of his neck, Harry’s pulse still racing beneath her lips.

“One minute,” he sighs, and she slips off his still-hard, sensitive cock, reaching down between her legs to catch the dribble of come there. She smears it around, offers him three fingers to suck, and he does, his eyes slipping shut as he laps up the mix of them both.

She’s going to regret not having her tights on when they have to get out of the car, but she tugs her knickers up and climbs into the driver’s seat as Harry’s still struggling to shove his dick into the tight confines of his jeans. “Gimme your keys,” she says, putting a hand back for them.

“Hey,” says Harry plaintively. “It’s my car.”

“Too bad. We need to go.” He drops the keys into her palm with a grumble, tugs at the crotch of his jeans and frowns. “Oh, look, our parking is expiring just this minute. Aren’t we timely?”

“Christmas miracle,” agrees Harry, nearly falling headfirst into the front seat.

She snaps a picture of the parking slip and the clock, posts it to Instagram while Harry’s fiddling with his seatbelt. Christmas miracle, indeed.


End file.
